


Someday

by MarshmallowMcGonagall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Grief, Pregnancy, Summer Solstice, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22673812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowMcGonagall/pseuds/MarshmallowMcGonagall
Summary: Ginny's hold on Hermione tightened and she leant into her sister-in-law. Her friend. The one person besides Harry who felt like a safe place in this storm. A harbour where she might escape the swells of the ocean. Molly had given Hermione the space she asked for. Harry knew she would go to him when she was ready. Ginny was the one who hammered on the door until Hermione let her come in, make cups of tea and plates of toast, then left with a squeeze of her hand.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Someday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CheekyTorah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekyTorah/gifts).



> The fic which follows is my take on the prompt Lex gave me (which I concede I immediately deviated from by not including Pansy!):
> 
> Details: Hermione's husband was killed in the line of duty and she’s left pregnant and alone. She grows close to Ginny and Pansy who have decided to help Hermione as she progresses with her pregnancy and one day raise her daughter. How is Hermione supposed to move on, and shit, she’s feeling weird things for the sister of her husband and her girlfriend. The guilt, the anguish, the confusion of her new sexuality. They didn’t know Hermione was pregnant she was early on when he was killed by some dark curse.

In the sunset, the river beyond the orchard was a fracture of gold in the landscape. The summer sun had taken it's time in setting and the breeze stirred up Hermione's hair. She pawed at her eyes again and simply the thought of getting up from the ground was too much. It had been days. She wanted to be able to say she didn't know how many but she knew if she looked at her watch she would be able to know to the minute when Harry had told her Ron was dead. Harry had turned up at the door of the cottage she and Ron had inherited from his Great Aunt Muriel. She didn't know why she had a bad feeling. She didn't believe in bad feelings. Not the bad feelings which slid into the realm of Divination. Into the realm of footsteps towards a door which brought inexplicable fear chasing through her veins. Except -

Except she had walked down the hallway and known. She had known something was wrong. The door was solid oak. It wasn't as if she knew who was on the other side. There hadn't been a hammering knock or an uncomfortably light tapping. Just an ordinary knock. A couple of quick raps against the wood and as she stood up in the kitchen the air changed around her. Strands of uncertainty wound around her, slipping around her ankles ready to trip her up. Her hand on the wall, she walked along the faded hallway carpet and towards the door. Head shaking, her heart pounding, she swallowed and tried to take a deep breath which was so shallow as to feel suffocating.

Opening the door, she saw Harry standing with the sun behind him casting his face in shadow. It was too early for him and Ron to be finished at work. Ron wasn't with him. Ron wasn't -

No.

No.

She heard Harry say her name and he engulfed her in a hug. He kept her upright for as long as he could before manhandling her into the cottage.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words choking him. Over and over he apologised, and still it was hours before he could say the words, "I couldn't save him."

Dark Magic. A curse all the Aurors knew but rarely saw. The split-second moment of hesitation upon hearing the incantation was enough. A jet of purple light. Shields surrounded Ron as he fell to the ground. His own shield cast too late. The Protego left his lips as the curse hit his chest.

Neither Hermione nor Harry knew when they stopped crying, only that there was some point in the short hours of the summer night when something resembling silence surrounded them. An uneasy sleep had claimed Harry, and panic grasped Hermione when a wave of queasiness swept over her. She eased herself out of his embrace. She couldn't let him find out. She couldn't do it to him. Not now. A whimper slipped from her lips when he groaned in his sleep and she froze, her head spinning as she waited to hear the deeper breathing of steady sleep. Stepping away from him, she cast a Silencing Charm and ran from the room.

Her hands slammed against the tiles of the bathroom before she could grasp the sink, the cold porcelain against her skin sending fractures through the little resolve she had clung to as she fled from Harry. The small part of her still clinging onto what was real knew the retching lasted only minutes but as her throat burned and tears streaked down her cheeks, she thought she could have been standing there for hours as pain chased each wave of nausea which swept through her.

Birdsong from the orchard drifted towards her. The long grasses rustled with the breeze and the river rushed past the small shore of the river bank. She heard the footsteps but didn't look up.

She had rinsed her mouth, gone back to Harry, and tried to be brave.

The funeral had been arranged quickly and no one questioned when she told Molly to do what she thought was best. Whether they thought it was because Hermione was unsure of Pureblood customs or admitting, they thought, for once that she couldn't do everything, they left her be.

Being brave had turned into hiding.

She hadn't screamed or yelled at anyone. She had left. Hidden in their cottage where she threw up, and cried, and from time to time, slept. Their cottage. Theirs. The only thing which was theirs was -

"I'm pregnant," said Hermione, when Ginny sat down on the grass beside her.

Ginny tore a handful of grass from the ground and started to slowly shred the leaves. Though the world still clung onto the fading light of the day, the warmth of the summer sun had long gone and Hermione shivered. Ginny scooted closer and dropping the pieces of grass on the ground, she put her arm around Hermione's shoulders and cast a warming charm.

"Did he know?" asked Ginny.

The sounds which fell from Hermione's lips seemed to bring the world to a halt. Just for a moment everything stopped and there was only a soft whimper before her pain was swept away by the breeze and the river flowed again. The birds still sang and the world was still cast in gold.

"No," said Hermione. "I was waiting for the right moment." She pawed at her eyes and took a great shuddering breath. "I wanted it - I wanted it to be right - I wanted it to be special."

Ginny's hold on Hermione tightened and she leant into her sister-in-law. Her friend. The one person besides Harry who felt like a safe place in this storm. A harbour where she might escape the swells of the ocean. Molly had given Hermione the space she asked for. Harry knew she would go to him when she was ready. Ginny was the one who hammered on the door until Hermione let her come in, make cups of tea and plates of toast, then left with a squeeze of her hand.

Weeks passed and the equinox came ever closer. The days lengthened. Ginny's determination grew while Hermione tried to survive. Ginny would make cups of tea, plates of toast, and interrupt the silence when she knew Hermione needed her to.

Ginny nudged a jar of marmalade across the table and Hermione sighed. Her life consisted of tea and toast. And throwing up. And not sleeping. She didn't know if it was grief or pregnancy or both. All she knew was that she couldn't sleep. Each night she stared at the ceiling. Sometimes she would give up and light the lamps. It was only days ago that she had been able to touch the book on Ron's beside table. It was a book about gardening. She had smiled then cried. Her heart pounding as she touched the pages. Which ones had he touched? Each bent page felt like a gift. Each corner turned down had inspired a brief burst of annoyance which would collapse into tears.

"The shortest night tonight," said Ginny.

"Ron hated equinox celebrations," said Hermione.

"All the more reason to go," said Ginny. Both women tried to manage the tears which came with the laughter. Ginny got up and went around the table to put her arms around Hermione. This embrace. Hermione wasn't sure how she would have survived the past weeks without this embrace.

Wrapped up in blankets, Hermione and Ginny sat on the grass in the cottage's garden and watched the sun set. Watched the stars unveil themselves. Hermione rested her head on Ginny's shoulder.

"He should be here," said Ginny.

"He should," agreed Hermione, quietly. Then before she could think to stop herself, she said, "I'm glad you're here."

Ginny took Hermione's hand in hers and squeezed.

When the winter equinox arrived at the cottage, Hermione and Ginny bundled up in blankets again, this time in front of the fire. Crookshanks lay in front of the hearth, stretched out in his attempt to let his belly be thoroughly warmed. Hermione laughed when Ginny nudged him with her foot and he rolled onto his back, entirely unconcerned with the world.

"Any ideas for names?" said Ginny.

Hermione glanced at the gardening book which sat on the coffee table. She still slept for precious little time and she would read. There was no progress in the garden, but the book pages were worn from months of late night reading. The pieces of him a comfort as the nights lengthened and her belly grew. Ginny did her best not to tease when Hermione read aloud and Hermione pretended not to enjoy Ginny's wicked grins when she found Hermione bundled up with the book. Some nights, Ginny would even come in to bed and rest her head on Hermione's shoulder while she read aloud about the best way to tend to flower beds.

"Well?" said Ginny.

"I've got a couple of ideas," said Hermione. She glanced at the woman next to her. The woman who she knew, in a way which she didn't like to give feelings so much power over, was coming to be a part of her world in a way that was so much more than a friend.

"Perfect," said Ginny. She kissed Hermione's cheek. "Perfect."

The baby sleeping on Hermione's chest beneath a blanket was hours old and already the debates were rife in the family as to who she looked like. Fred persisted in saying she wouldn't be so foolish as to take after Ron and had handed over ten Galleons to George when he pushed back the blanket and saw her red hair.

"Rose," murmured Hermione. She pressed her lips to her daughter's head then glanced at Ginny. "Thank you." She rested her forehead against Ginny's and knew that someday, when she was ready, Ginny would be waiting for her.


End file.
